The Singing 'Vice': Music and Mischief in Early English Drama

Early Theatre 12.2 (2009) Maura Giles-Watson The Singing ‘Vice’: Music and Mischief in Early English Drama1 ‘Debates about music are not about nothing.’ 2 Over the last half-century, scholars have extensively studied and debated the use and function of instrumental and vocal music in the English mystery plays,3 but music in the secular English interlude drama has yet to receive similar treatment.4 This is not without good reason: the subject of music in the interludes is fraught with ambiguity and uncertainty. Although the extant interludes contain many indications of song in the form of references, snatches, cues, stage directions, and even full song texts, very little scored music has been preserved in either manuscript or print.5 Richard Rastall’s observation with regard to music in early English religious drama might also be made of music in the interludes: ‘the surviving written music is only a fraction of that actually required in performance’.6 To be sure, absent musical scores and elided stage directions present special problems for the researcher. Thus, very sensibly, discussions of music in secular interlude drama have tended to limit themselves to those rare play texts that contain significant music in score, such as John Rastell’s The Four Elements and Ulpian Fulwell’s Like Will to Like.7 As Richard Rastall further notes, since documentation is quite scarce ‘informed guesswork is the only way forward’ in discussions of music in early English drama, ‘although the word “informed” is one that needs to be stressed’.8 Suzanne Westfall observes that ‘entertainments in great households were almost always occasional, ephemeral and frequently non- textual due to their multi-mediality. Consequently, they are extremely dif- ficult to recover without some documentation such as visual representation, musical score, or some description of movement and dance’.9 Amidst non-textuality and the resulting shortage of extant scores to serve as documentation of musical activity, even the most restrained speculative approach still leads to the conclusion that music and musicians were crucial 57 58 Maura Giles-Watson both to the emergence of the interlude as a genre of household entertainment and in the actual performance of interludes. Arguably, the musicality of late medieval and early modern English drama derives from the presence of minstrels among players. In addition to physical comedy, tumbling, dancing, tricks, improvisation, singing, and instrumental performance, the minstrel repertoire included acting and recitation. To be successful in their craft, both itinerant and liveried minstrels had to be versatile performers; a similar versa- tility was also required of the actor-singers who played the Vice — the flam- boyantly transgressive mischief-maker frequent in secular English interlude drama.10 Although the term ‘interlude’ remains contested, by the early Tudor period interludes were typically short plays performed by troupes of four to six players — often termed ‘interluders’ — who worked under the auspices of the court, noble households, and even ecclesiastical households.11 Interlude performances would frequently have occurred in the great hall, often as part of a larger program that might include dining, dancing, musical performance, and other sorts of entertainment.12 From a theatrical perspective, the great hall of a household is perhaps best understood as a mixed-use space trans- formed by the performances — of everyday life and of various entertainments — that occurred within it. These performances would have been heard as well as seen, with the interplay of aurality and visuality within this otherwise ordinary household space heightened by occasions of extraordinary theatric- ality. Julia Craig-McFeely cautions that ‘especially in the modern world, with its privileging of sight, we tend to consider music as sound dissociated from the visual and social space that it occupied, and hence overlook vital aspects of its meaning and purpose’.13 As a household entertainment, the dramatic interlude uses music to mediate, both semantically and semiotically, between the performative subjectivity of the ‘play’ and the concrete objectivity of the ‘game’. It is suggestive that by the later Middle Ages the Latin ludus meant ‘school’ as well as ‘stage play’ and ‘game’; in performance, the Vice’s singing circulates through these notions until at last the interlude fully exposes its didactic purpose. But in order for the interlude’s hero to be redeemed, he must first be seduced. ‘Enter the Vice’ The rise of the interlude as a dramatic genre is also closely tied to the emergence of the professional player, and, as Peter Happé points out, ‘there is The Singing ‘Vice’ 59 little doubt that the rise of the common actor occurred at roughly the same time as the disappearance of the itinerant minstrel’.14 This ‘same time’ was a long transitional period during which the performative activities of minstrels and players overlapped. For instance, in Wisdom, an anonymous East Anglian play from the 1460s, the figures representing the soul’s three Mights — Mynde, Wyll, and Understondyng — each call upon players accompanied by ‘mynstrallys’ to perform dumbshows that enact the several vices of each Might.15 Wyll introduces each of his seven vices-of-the-flesh pageant-style as they enter with their ‘mynstrell’ whom he also announces: Yowr mynstrell a hornepype, mete, þat fowll ys in hymselff but to erys swete. (757–58) Wyll understands the minstrel and his music to be depraved and grasps music’s power to deceive the senses. Earlier in Wisdom, Mynde, Understondyng, and Wyll sing a three-part song for which neither the text nor the music is supplied; only the stage dir- ection ‘et cantant’ is provided (620sd). Mynde takes the ‘tenowr’ part (617), Understondyng takes the ‘mene’ or middle voice (618), then Wyll claims the remaining part and makes explicit the connection between merry music and mischief: And but a trebull I owtwrynge, The Devell hym spede þat myrthe exyled! (619–20) Mankind, a moral interlude from the 1470s, also calls for ‘mynstrellys’ to perform within the play; at one point, Myscheff, the primary Vice, even refers to another Vice, Nought, as a ‘mynstrell’ and urges him to ‘blow’ his ‘flewte’ to announce the devil’s entrance (451–53).16 Indeed, the putative ontological relationship between minstrelsy and vice had been well established by this time: itinerant minstrels in particular were considered morally deficient figures predisposed to vice and depravity; their slippery social and performative identities combined with their ‘mobility’ to render them suspect.17 More- over, like minstrels, dramatic Vice figures employed theatrically and socially transgressive manoeuvres in order to cultivate relationships of ‘complicity’ and ‘solidarity’ with the great-hall spectators who were often within, and always in close proximity to, the dramatic performance.18 In this specialized 60 Maura Giles-Watson and intimate performance situation, the immediacy of the Vice characters’ musical mischief works to seduce the audience as well as the dramatic hero. In Mankind, Myscheff serves as a sort of master of the Vices’ ceremonies, with Nought, Nowadays, and New Gyse comprising a virtual guild of Vices. Together, they move among the ‘sers’ and collaborate to lure these spectators into singing a song, from which the dramatic hero Mankind abstains (ll. 332 ff.). Nowadays clears the way, then Nought provides the song cue: Nowadays Make rom sers, for we have be longe! We wyll cum gyf yow a Crystemes songe. Nought Now I prey all þe yemandry þat ys here To synge wyth ws wyth a mery chere; Nought then supplies his fellow Vices and the audience with a musical prompt; he sings what is probably the first line and the tune of a popular song: ‘Yt ys wretyn wyth a colle, yt ys wretyn wyth a cole’. New Gyse, Nowadays, and the spectators then follow Nought’s lead and sing the same line: ‘Yt ys wretyn wyth a colle, yt ys wretyn wyth a cole’. Now that the tune has been established, Nought introduces the new lyric: ‘He þat schytyth wyth his hoyll, he þat schytyth wyth his hoyll’, which New Gyse, Nowadays, and the audience then sing. As Rastall observes, ‘the deceit of this event is paramount. Since mortals’ songs of praise are in imitation of angelic song, the Vices’ promise of a “Christmas song” would have borne precisely that implication’.19 The Vices have perversely enchanted the audience; in supplying these unexpected words to a familiar tune, the Vices employ sung obscenity — a devilish trait — to coerce the unsuspecting audience into colluding. For this to succeed, the spectators must be tricked in such a way that they will be too stunned to resist the new words they suddenly find themselves singing. Not only words but also music ‘signifies by means of some signifying code … But no code is originary; there is no single code which is the key to the work, nor is there a code which explains all other codes’.20 As Monelle asserts, the apparent power of a code to explain a piece [or song] may in fact be subverted when the listener realizes that the code is itself part of the surface material gov- erned by other codes.21 The Singing ‘Vice’ 61 When familiar music combines with new song text, the signs accumulate and produce ‘unending codes’.22 But when the song is performed by the Vice figure — the embodiment of his own signifying symptom — within the interlude’s frame of expectations, the musical code becomes self-governing. Although the seductive Vice tends

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